Final Fantasy VII: Reunion
by An Australian Artisan
Summary: Five years after the fall of Meteor and Sephiroth's defeat, the former members of AVALANCHE have gathered aboard the Airship Shera for a long overdue reunion.


**Final Fantasy VII**

**Reunion**

~o~

Cloud peered around with a burgeoning sense of nostalgia.

The lounge aboard the _Shera_ was anything but classy, which was hardly surprising given that it had been designed by Cid Highwind personally. The floor and walls were all metal-plate and grilles, not a single stitch of rug or carpeting masking the cold steel. Cheap plastic chairs were scattered about the floor-space. A busted television clung to the rear wall, while rows of pinups claimed every other inch of available space. A pole whose purposes were almost certainly less than innocent had been erected in the corner. The wall on the port-side was an enormous partition of grime-streaked glass, though a glance through it would reveal a commanding view of the world far below. Holding pride of place on the fore-wall was a rusted out bench which served as a bar, the wall behind it loaded with booze and brews picked up in the far corners of the world. A seedy jazz mix was playing over the speaker system, occasionally interrupted by the lustful moaning of the Captain's ringtone.

Given their roots, the former AVALANCHE operatives gathered there felt perfectly at home.

Seated at the end of the bar, Cloud grinned as Barret and Vincent went another round of shots, the self-appointed AVALANCHE boss swaying drunkenly as the onetime Turk looked on impassively. It was a ludicrously unfair match-up, considering the latter was essentially immune to alcohol of any kind. Cid cackled absurdly as he poured the both of them another drink, his cigarette hanging crookedly from the corner of his mouth. Leaning on the bar a little way along, Yuffie was not-so-subtly perusing the Airship pilot's wallet. She caught Cloud looking and gave him a sheepish grin. Next to her, Red XIII leered in that way that they all took to mean he was smiling. Nearer to the window, Reeve was regaling Tifa with some absurdly uninteresting story about the falling costs of urban development. Tifa looked suitably bored out of her mind, nodding politely as the conversation required. An inactive Cait Sith sat forlornly in the corner, its enormous moogle grinning vacantly as it watched the proceedings.

Cloud allowed himself a moment to revel in the relative chaos that was AVALANCHE. Naturally, it had been Tifa who'd been the one to suggest the gathering. It had been five years since Meteorfall and the scattered members of their little group had scarcely seen each other since. Considering how long they'd been apart and how little they'd spoken, Cloud had been a little taken aback at the ease with which they'd grown re-accustomed to each other when they'd met in Costa del Sol earlier that day. Perhaps he shouldn't have been surprised, he reflected. They'd become incredibly close over the course of their journey to save the dying Planet; if anything, he ought to have been surprised if they _hadn't_ come together so easily.

He was broken him from his train of thought as the former AVALANCHE boss clapped him drunkenly on the back.

"You in fer the next round, Spike?"

Cloud grinned, leaning heavily on the bench, "I'm game."

"'Course you are!" Cid howled gleefully, topping off a half-glass with raw vodka, "Get summa' that into ya!"

Cloud raised his eyebrows, but picked it up and slammed down a mouthful. He grimaced at the uncomfortable burn, the alcohol blazing merrily as it guzzled its way down his throat. Vincent was looking at his empty glass with something akin to dejection. Catching Cloud's eye, he shook his head ruefully, "Nothing." He turned around, "Another, please, barkeep."

"I'll be cutting you off, soon," Cid warned, pointedly filling the shape-shifter's glass all the way to the top, "A fuckin' waste, is what you are." His wide grin belied his razor-sharp tongue. "Couldn't get pissed if you wanted to, yeah?" He shook his head woefully, "Now that's a real bloody crisis."

Barret shot Vincent a flinty look over the rim of his glass, "I can beat you out, yet."

Vincent raised his eyebrows, "I would very much like to see that."

Cloud snorted, slapping the bigger man's shoulder, "Don't try it, boss. The man's a monster."

"Shut yer spiky trap. I'm all over this."

Yuffie cackled, "Maybe you should pull up, Wallace. You are gettin' kinda old."

"You've got balls pulling shots at _him_," Cid sneered, "You hit puberty yet, kid?"

Yuffie's smirk dissolved instantly, "Funny." She made a point of spiking the pilot's rum as she leaned over to pat Barret on the head, "Have your drink, gramps. But I'd put my Ifrit down to your Fire that Valentine's got your number. You'll be waking up with a headache tomorrow."

"At the rate you're going, I shouldn't be surprised if you're all hungover for the next half century," Red muttered, looking longingly at the long line of bottles behind Cid's head. Cloud felt for him. Unlike Vincent, Red couldn't even put on the semblance of drinking. Must've felt a little left out at times like this.

"Three Wise Men," Barret boomed, his mechanical hand flexing instinctively, "Who's with me?"

Cid hooted loudly, already lifting a series of shot glasses up from below the bar. Vincent nodded placidly, though there was a hint of carefully masked pride below the stony exterior. Yuffie nodded exuberantly. She looked fairly straight, but she'd downed her fair share. Cloud took one wary look at the decidedly suspicious concoctions the Captain was putting together and shook his head, "I'm out."

Barret grunted wordlessly, casting the ex-SOLDIER a disgruntled look.

Cid was much more vocal about his discontent, "What's'a matter, kid?" He spat his cigarette into a bowl, picking up another burned out butt and shoving it between his lips, "D'you go and turn into some kinda pussy while I wasn't looking?"

Cloud stiffened. For half an instant, it seemed as if the room had gone very quiet. It had been quite some time since he'd met anyone with the balls to talk like that within a blue mile of him. A wide grin slowly stretched its way across his face. It really was good to be back, "Fuck it."

"That's the spirit," Yuffie cried, smacking the bar-top heartily.

"Put one down for me," said Tifa, moving up to join them. She winked at Cloud and he rolled his eyes.

Barret belched handsomely, "You in, Shinra?"

"Thanks, but I'm okay," Reeve said, sipping his champagne. He cut a sharp profile, as always, his WRO badge glinting in the dim light of the lounge.

Cid shrugged, "Suit yourself."

Cloud watched the gross show of unfairness with no small sense of injustice, "Whoa, whoa, whoa! How come you give him absolutely zero shit when he opts out?"

"'Cause you're a skinny dickrag who doesn't know up from down," Cid said pleasantly, filling the last of the shot glasses with a clumsy flourish before sliding them across the bar, "Three for you, my lovely lady. Three for the big boss, three for the stone man, and three for spike. Oh, yeah, and three for me."

Yuffie elbowed him in the ribs.

Cid laughed, "Keep your socks on, punkette. Here."

Everyone had finally gotten themselves sorted when Barret held up a hand for silence, "I don' usually go fer this sentimental bullshit, but I wanna call a toast." Everyone groaned, but he shook his head, "Nah, I'm serious. When it gets 'round to you, you'se've just gotta say a coupla words, then smash it down." When the others just gave him blank looks, he scowled, "How 'bout I start, then?" Raising his first shot glass high above his head, he gave a quasi-sober smile, "To Marlene."

He downed it, then looked about expectedly. There was a long, slightly awkward moment when no one said anything, and then Cid barked a hoarse, friendly laugh, "To the wide open skies."

Yuffie took the lead with a wild grin, "To Wutai!"

"To the Planet," Red XIII growled solemnly.

"To freedom," Vincent murmured.

"To peace," said Reeve.

Tifa raised her glass, "To old friends."

A pregnant pause followed that, with a couple of appreciative murmurs seconding it.

Through a vague haze, Cloud realised that it must be his turn. He peered across at Tifa. She was watching him with the rest, a pretty smile lighting up her face. For half a moment, the thin silver ring lying at the bottom of his pocket felt damned heavy, and he clung to the vain hope that the Three Wise Men might just give him the push he needed to make his leap of faith. He glanced at the clock. It was still only nine. The others were jeering at his hesitance. He laughed along with them. He still had the night. And he had his friends.

With a wide smile, he raised his glass.

~o~


End file.
